


Of Lacking Spectacle(s)

by RodeoQueen



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, M/M, Other, Soft Vergil (Devil May Cry), Stubborn Vergil (Devil May Cry), Suggestive Themes, dante read the lord of the flies, inspired by vergil's buddy holly glasses mod, the mod and pictures do not belong to me, vergil needs glasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:35:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RodeoQueen/pseuds/RodeoQueen
Summary: Vergil is a lot of things. Vergil is the Dark Slayer, The Alpha and The Omega, and the eldest son of Sparda. Vergil is also….in need of glasses?!
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Character(s), Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s), Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Original Male Character(s), Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 55





	Of Lacking Spectacle(s)

**Author's Note:**

> _Thank you @drusoona on Tumblr for sending me the pictures of Vergil that inspired this. The title is a reference to Gus Dapperton’s song “Of Lacking Spectacle.”_

Vergil was always so precise and capable, sensing demons from distances away and predicting attacks with pinpoint accuracy.

He was intense, his eyes purely focused on the task ahead of himself. A man of pure drive and prowess. And he was your man.

It came gradually, something he tried to ignore. A few sentences of blurred lines would quickly flicker back to clarity. A small pain that flashed behind his eyes after reading in a room too dark.

It didn’t look obvious to anyone. Even to his ever-doting beloved. He was the son of Sparda, a demon that surpassed Death multiple times. There was no way he could have failing vision. Impossible, he would scoff to himself as he rubbed his eyes.

This statement soon turned from ignorance to denial of a very real problem Vergil avoided showing. His always narrowed stare hid it quite well.

An anthill turned into a mountain he could no longer stamp down. And his beloved had already watched it build up for some time, waiting for the stubborn devil to say something about it.

Which he didn’t.

So when you were cooking some mac and cheese from a recipe you found from a friend who knew a friend who knew a friend who asked her son for the recipe, you decided to strike up the question.

“Vergil.”

“That is my name, yes,” Vergil said from the couch, enraptured in a new book you bought him. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Are you having vision problems?”

“Of course not.” Hand on your hip, you pointed your rue-covered spatula at him.

“Then why is your nose literally in that book?” Vergil used to always be found with his book at arms-length as he would silently recite the words.

He stilled. He quickly readjusted himself and coughed.

Jackpot.

“I haven’t a clue what you mean.”

“Don’t lie to me in front of my macaroni.” You threaten, stirring the pot. He sighs.

“My vision is just fine.” Vergil insists, squinting at the blurred words.

“Vergil, I think you have vision problems.”

“That’s foolishness.”

“Why so?”

“My father was a powerful demon, bad vision should not run in our family-”

“Didn’t your dad wear a monocle?”

His mouth dries and his eyes widen in realization. Oh god it was genetic. You have won the tirade and you puff your chest out.

“How about I take you to the eye doctor? I can call later and set up an appointment.” Vergil has closed the book and chosen instead to look at you.

The macaroni is boiling, a u-shaped pasta you are rather fond of. Your apron is speckled with flour and you twiddle the spoon in your hand.

“Come on, it’ll be super quick. Just read some letters off a wall.” You say as you add burrata into the cheese blend. Vergil always liked that kind of cheese.

When you went grocery shopping, he really thought you wouldn’t notice him taking more than three samples of it when no one was looking before walking off like a successful sample thief.

Upon the sound of a bag of his favorite cheese opening, Vergil got up. You smile. You go to offer him a bit before quickly snatching it away from his hand. He tuts at you.

“You can have some if you agree.”

“Agree to what?” You sigh.

“Eye doctor.”

“No need. I am fine.”

You turn to stir the pot of delicious pasta before going back to lecturing this stubborn devil.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been squinting more and having headaches.” You state. Vergil scolds himself, thinking he was much more hidden about his new problem.

He is quiet as he stares off into the pot of macaroni.

“Please? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” You put your other hand on his cheek. He looks at you finally, ice-blue glaciers warming at your loving and concerned expression.

God, his mate was so soft. He pulls your non-occupied hand to his other cheek-

And snatches the bit of burrata out of your fingers with his mouth. You make an offended noise at his trickery.

“Very well.” He muses.

You call up a local eye doctor after a hearty bowl of mac and cheese.

Taking Vergil to the doctor was like taking a cat to the vet. He sat in the waiting room with his arms crossed and eyes intensely out-alphaing everyone in his general proximity.

When they finally call your names, the ice was broken and people finally felt safe to breathe in his absence.

The eye doctor guides Vergil to the examination room. Vergil does not like it already. Why would you do this to him?

He waits at the door, waiting for you to come in with him.

“Sir, this is more of a personal test.” You shrug and blow him a kiss as he is ushered into the room

“How long has it been since you’ve had an eye test?” The doctor asks, Vergil taking a seat with a strange contraption before him.

“I have never had an eye test.” Vergil declares. The doctor laughs and swings the phoropter down. Vergil flinches slightly.

“Whoa now. Just set your chin here and look into the eye holes. This isn’t some medieval torture device.” He growls at the humiliation before doing so.

A series of lenses swiping through and the repeating question “which one looks clearer” later, Vergil is liberated from the examination room. He is greeted to you sitting and waiting for him.

“It wasn’t too bad, right?” You ask. Vergil nods. You turn to the doctor.

“So how is his vision?” The doctor flips through a few notes.

“Well, the letter Z was on the board and I asked him what he saw and he said triangle.” The doctor flips through a few notes.

“Your husband is in dire need of glasses.” Vergil raises an eyebrow at that statement.

Your husband, he likes that. You don’t even correct him.

Luckily, this clinic also sold frames and Vergil is able to pick out a few while you do the paperwork.

You remember Vergil has no taste and quickly go to help him.

“No, no, well maybe, no, ew.” You respond as Vergil swaps various frames about.

“My love, I simply need the lenses. These materials mean nothing.” He argues as you deny the tenth pair of frames.

“Well, you’re very handsome and I’d like you to get a nice pair that matches.” You say. You go to make a smug face at him when you realize he has finally walked away to pick out his own.

You immediately drop the frames you were holding when Vergil places a certain pair of thick black-colored glasses upon his nose.

“We’ll take them.”

Several weeks later, Vergil is bestowed his new reading glasses. He finds his problem vanishes quickly and he can now read at a decent distance away. You seem to greatly appreciate them. Strange. On jobs, he usually takes them off and stores them in the little case he was given.

He thought of it as weakness. If his own body was failing to maintain 20/20 vision, he should be ashamed. In the demon world, any bit of weakness meant imminent death.

Yet, he told himself he wasn’t in Hell anymore. He was having breakfast with his beloved and he was safe. And he was privileged to be allowed for his body to take a break and age as it should have, his vision waning as a normal man would have at his age.

You kiss him goodbye for another day of work and you push his glasses up as they tip slightly down. His nose does the little scrunch you love so much. So much, you kiss him on the bridge of the nose. He purrs and promptly cuts a portal to work.

He walks into Devil May Cry to work with his brother. Dante is upstairs, the sounds of a shower happening.

Vergil takes to the paperwork his brother has ditched doing once more, typing on a clunky keyboard. You had insisted to pay extra for blue-light protection and he finds it is so much easier to see the computer screen.

Finally, the water is shut off. His idiot brother is done wasting work hours. Well, when is he not?

Vergil continues looking through yellowed documents as Dante passes by, smelling like strawberry soap marketed for children.

Dante walks forward but then puts himself in reverse to see Vergil with glasses on again.

“Yes?” Vergil grits his teeth.

“Those are glasses.” Dante starts.

“Yes, yes they are.”

Dante snorts and points at him.

“Buddy Holly looking ass bitch.” Vergil stops and glares at his brother.

“I don’t even know who that is.”

Dante wheezes at he keeps looking at Vergil.

“Of course you don’t, you bag of bones! You look like a college RA.”

“Dante, get to work-”

“What are you going to do? Tell the dean on me? Is that why you were gone a couple weeks ago?”

“I had an appointment-”

“I hAd aN aPpOiNtMeNt.” Dante mocks.

“That’s rich coming from someone without insurance coverage-”

His spectacles are snatched from his face. Dante puts them on.

“How do you see with these on? Damn, you’re legally blind.”

“That’s why they’re mine-hand them over!”

“You sound like Piggy from Lord of the Flies. My specs! My specs!” Dante mocks in a terrible English accent.

Vergil growls in anger.

When Vergil comes home with his glasses off, you wonder why. The blue devil comes behind you while you make some soup, hands on your waist and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

He’s quiet and in a way that is not his usual silence. He seems to have something on his mind. This time, you choose not to push it and let him be.

It isn’t until you’re both in bed, the lamp on as Vergil goes to take out a new novel. He hesitates when he reaches for his black glasses.

“My love?”

“Yes, Vergil?”

“Who’s Buddy Holly?”

Weird question but okay.

You search up the name on your phone and show him a picture. He puts on his glasses.

“Why would Dante think I look like that?” He asks himself with a frown. Upon realization, you put your hand on your mouth and fight back a laugh.

“Did Dante say that?” Vergil rolls his eyes.

“Of course he did, amongst other things.”

“Well, I think you look very nice. Like a very sexy college professor.” Vergil smugly looks at your bedroom eyes. The novel is long abandoned on the table.

Before he can pounce on you, he goes to take off his spectacles. You snatch them and place them back on his face.

“Keep them on this time.” You bite your bottom lip teasingly.

Vergil purrs.

He might get used to this.

_Here are some references to the aforementioned mod._

_All of these pictures belong to @drusoona on Tumblr. Please ask that creator before using these for your own enjoyment._

**Author's Note:**

>  _The aforementioned recipe for mac and cheese belongs to ButcherKnives. I am lactose intolerant and a bite of mac and cheese will vibe check me straight to hell._
> 
> _-Rodeo_


End file.
